Second chances
by silmirof4077
Summary: While on a mission Tristan saves a young woad girl from death. But attacked by his friends he is injured,lost, horseless and burdened with two hurt commrads, and now the snow is falling....Chapter 11 finally up!
1. Hiding

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Shhhh"

The call echoed through the trees

"What?" Galahad hissed not yet used to Tristan's out of the blue warnings

"Woads"

" Where?" asked Arthur urgently

"Not many, don't move" Tristan said quietly, he unsheathed his sword then spun into the trees. There was a shrill cry and he emerged holding a young girl by her hair.

"Only one."

She struggled like a wild cat, staring at the others for help.

Tristan lifted his head out of her reach.

"Tristan let her go," said Galahad pityingly

" No, she has heard too much of our plans"

Lancelot drew his sword, " Well then…."

"Lancelot no" Arthur commanded strongly from a few footsteps away. Gawain, Dagonet and Bors were still asleep,

" We'll bring her with us Tristan." he tossed him some rope "Can you keep watch?" Tristan nodded and knelt next to her, binding the ropes around her wrists

"Hey, don't struggle you make it worse" he looked at her concernedly, slightly concerned for his own sanity; _why did he feel the need to save her_? "Calm down" she fell silent throwing herself against the ground

" Who are you?" he asked chewing on his food, still watching the trees suspiciously

"You?" she said in halting English.

"Tristan" he answered, still questioning his sanity; he'd said less to some of the servants in his home

"Why do you hunt us?" she asked.

"This is our duty to Rome" he replied.

"You have no duty; Roman," she hissed. Tristan quickly unsheathed his sword and held it to her throat "Don't call me that".

The next morning they threw her into a small caravan from delivering some important noble elsewhere.

" Tristan ride ahead"

Tristan had heard that comment a lot. He rode swifter then usual, up and down their path.

"Nothing," he told Arthur this before riding alongside the caravan; making certain that no one was watching he slipped inside.

"Hey, shut up" he whispered to the struggling girl. Quickly he untied her ropes, "Get out!"

"Tristan you traitor."

Tristan turned to see a furious Bors standing in the doorway,

" Bors listen…" he ducked, but too late and Bors's boot came into sharp contact with his head.

"Get out!" he gasped before falling motionless against the wall; blood flowing freely from his temple.

Roused by the shouts Arthur turned his horse in front of the doorway and swung next to Bors.

"What happened?" he demanded

"He was trying to free her!"

Galahad had caught the young Woad before she had cleared the trees.

Tristan still lay unconscious; Arthur knelt next to him binding a piece of cloth around his head, before returning to the rest of the knights.

The Woad bit Galahad hard; he yelled and dropped her; she fled into the woods.


	2. Or else

Thanks reviewers and boondockgal who has reviewed all my king Arthur stories. Cheers

Tristan awoke to the gentle sway of the caravan; his head spun as he got up.

Steadying himself against the wooden frame he glanced out of the door, looking for away to leave unnoticed.

Arthur rode in front of him; halting his escape "Mount up Tristan." he said harshly, before trotting up to join Bors.

"Thank you for your compassion," Tristan snapped back.. He swung onto his horse from where he stood and rode up, just behind Gawain. He winced, willing a side path to appear: riding home with his sullen companions was not a welcoming option.

His head was still spinning and he grabbed the saddle to hold himself steady. Gawain glanced back at him worriedly.

"Tristan," he mouthed, "Are you ok?" Tristan nodded slightly and Gawain copped a cuff on the ear form Bors.

" Tristan ride ahead and check that the rode is clear,"

Tristan inwardly groaned; he had no wish to bolt up ahead, but did so anyway.

It was becoming increasingly clear that he was not doing a very good job as scout: he was having too much difficulty staying awake and fighting back the dizziness to see or hear anyone in the woods, however if there had been anyone there, they would have shot him by now, as he was making enough nose for an entire army. Apparently the Woads hiding in the trees agreed; two arrows flew from afore mentioned: one struck him squarely in the shoulder. Tristan spun to see where it had come from, but before he could find its source another arrow went hurtling past his face; the throb in his head increased tenfold and he tumbled to the ground hitting the snow with a dull thud. His horse neighed and bolted to avoid the volley of arrows, leaving her master lying in the snow.

Arthur looked up at the sound of hooves scrambling; Tristan's horse bolted into view, her rider missing. Arthur grabbed the reins and looked back along he track worriedly. He had been too hard on Tristan he knew that now. A feeling of sickness was rising in his chest, he could never live with himself if he had brought Tristan to harm, but if he looked for him he mightn't live at all.

Flashback

The Bishop smiled warmly but fakely at Arthur, who nodded in return. ""Arthur!" he greeted him with the same feigned warmness. "I have something I need to tell you, come let us go somewhere quieter to talk. Feeling confused Arthur followed the Bishop in to a quiet side room. He could not see why he would bother: there was enough noise in the tavern to mask even the loudness conversation. " Arthur," the Bishop repeated, all pretence of happiness falling from his voice. "Arthur you a good commander. A Roman commander" Arthur nodded slowly. Was there going to be a point to this little conversation? "But Arthur." The Bishop went on oblivious to the sceptical look in Arthur's eyes " I have seen you men disobey you and go unpunished."

"You point. Bishop" Arthur said calmly. " Arthur," the Bishop's voice lowed dangerously "If you want to command any one who is hurt or lost disobeying you cannot be helped or found."

When Arthur still failed to acknowledge this, the Bishop's voice rose to a shout. "Arthur by allowing them to do this you are displaying no more wisdom then the pagan savages". Arthur's voice had risen too. " By allowing them to do this, Bishop, I keep their respect and trust. They are my men I command them how I wish." The Bishop opened his mouth and then closed it again, mastering himself. " We have no need to fight like peasants Arthur." He said his voice silly yet threatening. " I will not impose on you how to control your men. I trust your judgment Arthur, but if you are lenient with your men or if they disobey you, someone will be punished" the Bishop drew a swift finer across his jewel encrusted throat then smiled again with all the warm of an ice storm "Remember this Arthur and good luck."


	3. Left to die

" Arthur?"

It was Gawain; his voice was unusually shrill, his worried eyes darted onto every tree. "Well?" he cried incredulously. His horse snorted and pranced around Arthur's. Arthur sighed and cast a woeful look into the snow. He knew by law he was not allowed to follow his knight, but it pained him not to abandon is post and keep searching.

"Gawain ride ahead." he called with forced indifference. Gawain nodded and bolted off.

He retuned a few minutes later

"Nothing, he must have strayed off the path, he would not last long in this." Gawain looked frantic; his rational half was telling him to do as Arthur said, but blind instinct and care for his comrade was screaming at him to bolt back and search for Tristan till he was found. Arthur nodded. Gawain's eyes flashed, "You would just leave him to die!" he yelled drawing his knife and advancing on Arthur. Arthur raised a hand and grabbed Gawain's wrist

"I have no choice Gawain." He answered wearily. Gawain looked sceptical. But he rode beside Arthur, who repeated everything the bishop had told him.

If Arthur had thought that Gawain's anger would subside he was wrong. He remained silent only long enough for Arthur to finish before exploding:

"Arthur you won't …..you cannot…. Bloody Romans!" he yelled finally and jabbing his horse in the gut, he rode off, sending snow into Arthur's face.

00oo00oo

They made slow progress, arriving despondent and soaked, at the gate. The Bishop greeted them "Arthur, I see you have one less." He gave a satisfied smirk. Arthur looked at him bitterly

"Tristan fell and we could not find him."

"Did you not look for your knight Arthur?" the Bishop taunted, smirk still firmly in pace.

"He released one of out prisoners."

"Then he is a traitor and what you did was just."

Arthur was little comforted by these words and he let it show.

00ooo000o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Tristan shivered. He opened his eyes, feeling slightly disorientated. The trail ahead of him was blurry at the edges and the falling snow only severed to further mar his vision. Tristan pulled himself out of the snow and quickly tried to figure out where he was. An arrow was firmly lodged in his arm; it's dark and crude shaft protruding from his armour. Considering that it was doing a good job of stopping the flow of blood and the fact he had nothing to bind it with, Tristan concluded it should stay there. The best plan now was to walk while he could and try to reach some form of civilisation.

00ooo000ooo0000ooo00000ooo

**Thanks for the reviews. This is a Looooong story so bear with me. More soon.**


	4. home, bitter home

The wall loomed up to meet him. Tristan looked around warily; as if waiting for an attack. None came. Placing a hand on his sword hit he limped towards the stone fortress. Someone standing on a watchtower turned and fled. Tristan considered the firing an arrow past him, but decided it would not be the best way to announce his arrival.

Tristan stumbled back into the fort; no one made any move to help him; unconcernedly he tripped into his room and locked the door. He collapsed on to his bed, first checking the arrow in his arm; the skin around it was a sickly green. Mentally cursing every living being in a mile radius, he heated some water and pulled a bandage out of his supply bag. Tristan held his tongue between his teeth and gently pulled the arrow out. "Curse Bors!" he muttered.

"TRISTAN" a worried shout from outside his door informed him that Arthur had noticed his return. He made no reply, now holding a cloth bruised head.

" Tristan are you alright? Can you hear me?" the doorknob rattled ominously. Tristan smiled grimly; glad he had locked the door

"Tristan….." There was a sigh and the sound of someone walking away. To sick and tired to care that he was still in his rain drenched tunic, Tristan fell backwards onto his bed and was dead to the world instantly..

00oo00

Tristan awoke with first light; his vision had cleared and he could see well now, however his head still throbbed. Tristan sat up slowly through the mass of bruises around his head, his sharp ears picked up the sound of horses galloping. Frowning slightly, he moved to the window and drew the ragged sheet the served a curtain aside. Out of the stained glass he could see his comrades riding away; he felt a tinge of melancholy that he was not with them. He could also see Galahad bobbing along next to Arthur and Lancelot as far away for Bors as he could get, poor kid, he had only just been posted here and that probably wasn't the best introduction. Then there was Lancelot; he never seemed to have an opinion, just went with the flow, unlike Bors who would stand up for what he believed in. Stupid man. Tristan sometimes surprised himself at the amount he knew about his fellows, despite never talking to them much. He was one who preferred to be alone.

The fire in his head seemed to have dimmed and he dragged himself up with a mind to beg some food off Vanora.


	5. Punishment

**Hiya guys! Sorry about the lull. Now I ran into a slight problem in this chapter: if the roman had really cut Tristan that deep it would have had the same affect as him slitting his wrist. So lets just ignore that shall we? Please.**

**Thanks reviewers, remember: If you stop reviewing, I stop typing. **

Vanora smiled when she saw the untidy scout limp in. She had a soft spot for Tristan, true he was a bit sadistic, but he was always polite and civilised around her and she liked his quite manner.

"Hello love, why didn't you leave with the others?"

Tristan shook is head, gladly accepting the flagon of ale and food she offered. "Thank you Vanora," he said softly

"You look pale Tristan are you alright?"

" I'm fine"

"If you say so, eat here where I can keep an eye on you."

Tristan grinned and sunk onto a bench once again utilising his knife as something to eat with,

"I'm sorry about what my Bors did to you Tristan, you did the right thin letting the poor child go"

Tristan smiled grimly "She was only as old as young Galahad, to young to be brought here or know better."

She nodded seeing that the ruthless killer had some morals.

He limped over to the tap to wash his plate, having some respect for Vanora, unlike most of her patrons.

"Here Tristan I'll take that you go and rest."

Tristan smiled, his head was starting to spin again.

He trekked up to his room, amazed at how long it had taken. Tristan sunk onto his bed again, intending to go back to sleep.

Rap rap rap 

A sharp tap pulled him from his daze

"What?" he moaned. Tristan I know your in there, please come out" Tristan snorted and called back harshly

"Go and pray Arthur, pray that I do not flee to death by the hands of the Romans." There was a cry from outside his door

"Tristan you will not do that, I'll kill you myself before you do that!" He could also recognise Gawain's voice.

"Arthur I wouldn't' open that door even if I could!" He retorted sharply.

There was a large portion of truth in this; Tristan was exhausted from his injuries and walking about and wished to stay where he was.

"Tristan, what do you mean _you can't_?" Arthur questioned urgently. Tristan refrained from answering, having already wasted enough breath.

"Jols,"

There was a clink of keys and the door swung open; Arthur blanched visibly at Tristan's state. Tristan reluctantly pulled himself up "What do you want Arthur?" he asked wearily, wishing to sleep.

"Tristan, I beg your forgiveness; I should neither have sent you out nor failed to find you. I had been misled in my ways."

Tristan raised one eyebrow questioningly. Arthur paused

"But Tristan what you did is inexcusable by Roman law; you must be punished." Tristan looked at Arthur with a hate that the roman commander had never seen before.

"Leave him alone!"

There was a shout from the door. Vanora was standing there, baby on her hip, who she passed to a scared looking Gawain.

" Poor thing has been down to see me today, he could hardly walk, yet still he I courteous, now you _Arthur_, you think it you duty to come in here and _punish _him!"

"Lady…."Arthur said "Tis not my will, but that of the Roman Empire."

Vanora fixed him with an ice-cold stare; something Tristan had not though possible from the gentle woman. There was a yell form outside and Tristan sat up, instantly reaching for his knife. He stood up warily and pointed its tip at Arthur

" Tristan please do not make this more difficult for yourself." With that Arthur left Tristan still holding his knife in front of him. Tristan turned his attention to the door; two burly roman guards were standing there. The first seized Tristan and roughly pulled his arms behind his back Tristan slashed at him, but missed and his knife clattered to the ground. He struggled wildly before the other man struck him on the side of his head the world spun before righting itself; by this time one of the two had drawn a knife from his pocket. He pulled Tristan's hand out in front of him. Tristan gritted his teeth as the roman brought the knife down into his skin; Vanora screamed and clapped her hand to her mouth. Tristan flinched and turned his head away determined that no one would see his pain. The man expertly flicked his knife out and Tristan gasped still fighting down a scream. The roman drew the blade across his last cut, deeper this time. Tristan yelled pulled his hand away. The first man turned to the crowd who had gathered at the door

"Healers, no one is to help this man."

_So this is roman punishment_. Thought Tristan. _Blackmail and torture. _

The Roman placed his knife on Tristan's throat; Tristan instinctively tilted his head up

"You do that again and this is what awaits you." he released Tristan, who fell forwards, and left. "Tristan?" Vanora was hovering uncertainly behind him.

"It's fine, it' fine" he mutter under his breath, fossicking in his bag before drawing out another bandage; he bound it tightly around his wrist

He grimaced again, then smiled at Vanora,

"Go, Bors will be waiting for you." Closing the door after her, he checked that it was locked and began to more closely inspect his wounds. Having given up in bandaging it he looked with trepidation at his wrist; two deep cuts in the shape of a cross, rested on his hand. Tristan looked up in loathing; he had no wish, nor need for a cross on his hand.

He fell asleep again didn't wake for a time.


	6. We meet again

**Hello good reviewers, nice long chapter for you with a twist at the end, bear with me we are drawing near to the finish line. Thanks a bundle you guys make writing worthwhile.**

"Tristan?"

Someone was warily tapping on his door again. Tristan snapped from his sleep, now in a very bad mood. _If that was Arthur he would carve a cross on his hand!_

"Tristan can you hear me?"

"No, go away" Tristan called back. _Damn it;_ he had forgotten to lock the door again. Arthur swung in open "Come in." Tristan muttered irritatedly. Arthur looked at him with concern

" Tristan let me see your hand," Tristan held it out oblivious to the fact that blood had started coming through the bandage

"Tristan I'm am sorry this had to happen, will you come down?." Tristan nodded and followed Arthur out the door.

00oo00

He limped into the now crowed tavern.

"Tristan!" cried Gawain; of all the knights Gawain was the only one Tristan would speak to.

"Thank Gods your alive!"

" Unfortunately" Tristan muttered. Vanora came out to looking very relived to see him standing. She passed him some food with a small smile. She went back, taking her child off Bors. Tristan frowned when he saw him; he intended to have a few words with Bors.

" Tristan, don't," Gawain said mildly with half a mind to forcefully stop Tristan, but in the other corner Galahad had caught is attention; he was up against the wall, a very insane looking roman at his throat

"Hey there, leave him alone!" With a pleading look at Tristan he went to aid Galahad.

Tristan moved in front of Bors "Hello Bors" he said carefully. Vanora came out again and handed her husband both mug of ale

Tristan's eyes followed Vanora back a slight smile playing on his lips. " I know you Tristan." Bors hissed in a slightly slurred voice. Tristan turned around, looking vaguely amused.

"Talking to her, you stay away or I'll send you away." He held his knife to Tristan's throat before flicking it back into his sheath, leaving a small nick on Tristan's neck.

Tristan sighed as Bors lumber back to his table. He had had many death threats recently and he wasn't going to notice one from a drunk, senseless savage. Sick of the constant noise he limped back again, not going to his room, but to the stables .His hawk landed on his hand as soon as he entered.

" Where you been? I could have used the company." He settled himself resting against the wall of his horse's stall and fell asleep.

"Hey Tristan wake up."

Tristan opened his eyes to find Galahad standing over him. He suspected it was early morning; Galahad passed him a fully tacked horse.

"You awake?"

"I am now.," he grumbled in response.

Galahad scuttled away fearfully.

He took it from Galahad, gently brushing its forelock out. "Knights mount up."

Tristan swung up and followed his commander out of the stable.

As the fort passed from sight they slowed and Tristan rode up beside Arthur.

"Where we going?"

" Just to protect some villagers who are under threat."

"I see, and I ride ahead to check to the road don't I?"

"No Tristan, for God's sake no, stay right here where I can see you, if you need to stop just say so. I'll send someone else up front."

"Send Bors," Tristan suggested helpfully.

" Mmmmm." Arthur was clearly elsewhere.

"Arthur. Arthur! Woads!" He finally shouted.

"What?"

" Send Bors," he repeated

" Tristan……"

Tristan trotted ahead, still leading the group, but remained within Arthur's sight. There was a flash of blue in front of him; he paused for a moment and whispered back

"Stop," This was unheeded.

"Arthur!" Tristan hissed. The blue speck stopped; an arrow flew and Tristan raised a shout

" Arthur! Woads; move!"

By now Arthur was fully aware: he wheeled around and led his knights back, ducking an arrow Tristan followed, slightly slower. Tristan tried not to let the pain in his head overcome him as they bolted though the scrub.

They halted a few leagues away and Tristan trotted up last, looking weary.

"Tristan I'm a sorry, many times in recent I have made these mistakes" Arthur said quietly to his scout.

"Nay that I will forgive you. You think I want to die?"

"Well sometimes I wonder….."

Tristan surveyed the other knights with a look that was daring them to laugh.

"Come then, shall we continue." Gawain said brightly, breaking the silence. Bors bolted off indifferently. Tristan rode at a slower pace next to Arthur.

00oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oSeveral years later00ooo0o0o0o0o0o0o

Many years later, a battle worn Arthur emerged from a dark cell, carrying a half dead girl.

" Water, get me some water!" he cried, laying her down on the ground and Tristan could recognise her.

"She is a Woad." he informed Arthur sharply, throwing his sword into it's sheath. As he did this he caught a glance of the underside of his wrist: a faint white cross was still etched there and he glowered at the Woad lying on the ground and Arthur bending over her. Her blue eyes met him pleadingly and he stared back at he with cold indifference.

"Traitor." he hissed, the sound just reached Arthur's ears and he looked up to see Tristan looking scathingly down on him.

" I see this punishment….." He flipped his wrist up "….was reserved for me."

As Arthur looked down again on to the pitiful Woad girl, he could see why Tristan had spared her life so long ago.

"There're coming with us."


	7. Second mericies

**Hello, hello, hello, well her we are chapter seven. Getting tired of me yet?**

**Thanks all reviewers you rule. As you might no I Own Nothing. **

Tristan was taking up his usual spot as lookout for the group.

He reported back to Arthur and trotted beside Genevieve "Why did you come back?" he asked studying her ashen face.

"I did not mean too I assure you, why do you want me dead?" she replied suspiciously her eyes darting to the sheathed sword by his side. Tristan smiled grimly flicking up his wrist showing the faint white scars.

" Oh!" she said softly then faded into the darkness of the caravan.

Tristan flicked his horse back and bolted up front again

"I hope you know what your doing Arthur." He snapped

"Tristan I am sorry and if you can ever forgive me…"

"Arthur I have done just what you did, yet I was punished."

" Tristan, please, it was not at my biding."

" But you told them." Tristan hissed lethally

"Tristan…."

But the scout was gone. Arthur sighed and glanced back at the weak woman sitting in the carriage.

Tristan rode easily a few miles in front of his commander. In the distance a large army was approaching. " Saxon's," He muttered in annoyance. All previous arguments forgotten, he shot four arrows into the sky and watched them silently hit their marks before galloping back.

The scrub was drab and dense when he had ridden through and it still was but it echoed metallic sword clashes and harsh battle cries. A mix of fear for the villagers and hate for whomever it was attacking them welled in Tristan and silently he flew back to the precession.

As he galloped across the frozen ground, there was a thunder of hooves and another horse crashed into him. Tristan's horse skidded on the ice and it's master landed hard on his shoulder. Tristan quickly picked himself up. He peered threw the now driving snow to see Lancelot tumble form his skidding horse. "Lancelot?" Tristan ran quickly to his friend's aid.

" You alright?"

"Yeah."

Tristan pulled him up; both horses were standing flank-to-flank trembling.

" What happed?" Tristan asked helping Lancelot to his horse.

"Attack…" Lancelot gasped "…. I only just got away with my life."

Tristan froze as if he'd been struck

"What of the others,"

"Don't know….. Arthur told me to get out……."

Tristan glanced up the path warily.

"We best get off the road."

Lancelot nodded then fell against Tristan 

"Lancelot." He knelt next to him flicking his hair up to reveal a large gash. Tristan grabbed a bandage from his pack and tied it around Lancelot's head.

"Lancelot wake up, Lancelot!" with a sigh he pulled him onto his shoulder and staggered back to the horses, threw Lancelot over the saddle and jumped up before he rolled off again.

_Click click_ _click _

Lancelot's horse came nervously forward, Tristan grabbed her reins and they trotted away.


	8. Survival

WOW** , I'm so sorry about the huge wait, andI hope you guys forgive me**

00oo000oo

They slid into a small valley; Tristan looked past the trees warily, but the Woads were not attacking them now, nor were the Saxons. He lowered Lancelot to the ground and made him as comfortable as possible before lighting a small fire; a task near impossible amidst the heavily falling snow.

There was a rustle from the bushes, Tristan raised his bow and notched an arrow, ready to shoot. He was about to release it when a blood covered Galahad stumbled in.

" Galahad!" he dropped it and quickly went to support the young knight.

" What in God's name happened to you?"

Galahad was breathing extremely shallowly, he shook his head in answer and his eyes flicked over onto Lancelot.

"Galahad try and stay awake."

Tristan laid him next to Lancelot and quickly stemmed the flow of blood coming from his arm. He pushed Galahad's hair aside from his face on an attempt to find the source of blood. He found a gash so much like Lancelot's that he suspected the same Saxon had injured them. Tristan bound it with the last of his linen, then looked at Galahad's face

"Galahad are awake?" he said softly.

The young knight shook his head clearly terrified of Tristan. Tristan sighed.

"Rest I'll keep watch.." He hoped no more of their party came back like this, he was fast running out of bandages and he would have enough trials getting these two home.

Presently Lancelot woke up.

" Where am I?" he flung himself up which undoubtedly would have aggravated his wound.

"Hush, Lancelot, lie back down."

Lancelot too did not looked comfortable about sleeping when Tristan was hovering over him with a knife

"Now you should be resting, I won't kill you." Tristan teased before settling himself next to the fire. Lancelot glared at him suspiciously then fell back asleep. Tristan glanced over at Galahad's pale face. The young knight had fallen unconscious or asleep, but at present seemed still alive.


	9. The long road home

Ok I seem to have lost half my reviewers. Thanks, thanks a lot. I feel really loved. For those of you who were kind enough to review you get a huge thank you and a virtual hug. The rest of you get an evil glare. So anyway here we are another chapter and we're almost done!

00oo00oo00oo

The next morning Tristan stood among the dying embers of the fire thinking of what to do.

" Hey Lancelot." He tapped the man's head several times before getting a response ,then pulled him up and onto his horse.

Tristan turned and pulled several lengths of rope out of his bags

"Tristan what are you doing with that?" Lancelot said warily, eyeing the rope with suspicion.

" I'm tying you to the saddle dearest Lancelot." Tristan said dryly knotting the rope together around the saddle.

" OI! I can ride fine Tristan, you can't do this!"

" Just watch me." Tristan said under his breath, knotting the last rope and standing back to admire the affect; there was no way Lancelot could possibly fall off now. He heaved, a still unconscious Galahad onto his own mare and swung up behind him, taking the piece of rope attached to Lancelot's mare's bridle in his hand.

"Let's go."

They had been riding for a while now, very slowly and following a fast flowing river. The ground was almost frozen over. Tristan heard something snap in the trees above. He looked up and saw a large branch precariously balanced on another, his instinct took hold and he quickly backed out from under it. It snapped and skidded along the ground; his horse reared and leapt aside.

The branch crashed into Lancelot's horse knocking it of its feet "LANELOT!" Tristan shouted. The bay mare fell heavily on his friend. Lancelot yelled; his horse had fallen onto his leg and he couldn't free himself. From the combined effects of his wound, freezing cold and being crushed under his horse, Lancelot lapsed into unconsciousness and was dragged along like a rag doll as the two of them plunged into the water.

In a split second Tristan had weighed his chances: he reasoned that Galahad was not so badly injured that he wouldn't survive a slight fall. He leapt down unsheathing his knife. There was a dull thud from behind as Galahad hit the snow. Tristan plunged into the water and pushed though the reeds to find Lancelot, he was now in danger of being crushed by his thrashing horse, if he hadn't already drowned.

"Lancelot!" he gasped and pulled his friend halfway out of the icy water. He quickly cut the bonds that held him to the saddle and they fell away like limp snakes drifting into the water. Tristan pulled Lancelot away from the saddle as his mare became unstuck from the reeds then disappeared under the water. Tristan hated to see such a beautiful horse lost like that, but turning his mind to the task at hand and with great difficulty hauled Lancelot out of the water and on the shore.

" Lancelot," he called Lancelot's brown eyes flew open; his face was pale as he gasped for breath.

" Steady friend." Tristan cautioned. "You alright now?" He stood up allowing Lancelot to lean heavily on his arm. Galahad had fallen into the snow and had not moved since. Tristan unceremoniously picked him up the collar of his shirt and dragged him behind them, whistling to his horse at the same time. They quickly broke through a small thicket and ended up in a shelter of sorts. "Galahad?" Tristan gently lowered Lancelot to the ground and lay Galahad near by .He unrolled a blanket from the back of his saddle and passed it to Lancelot, who was still shivering.

"Can you breath now?" he asked seriously. Lancelot nodded and gratefully wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.


	10. Home, sweet home

With extrem difficulty, Tristan managed to light a small fire on the slightly less snowed on grass; this done he stood next to Galahad whom he had rested against a tree. "Galahad," he said softly, then increasing in tone. "Hey! Galahad, wake up." He cuffed the young knight lightly over the head. This did the trick: Galahad's eyes shot open, he lunged out at Tristan with his knife; leaving a long, but shallow, cut down his chest. Tristan had been completely off guard and quickly leapt back to avoid further injuries from the young knight. He could see that his vision was clearing slightly. "Galahad." Tristan said cautiously, more concerned about his young friend then what his "young friend" had just done. Galahad's vision snapped back. "Tristan!" he gasped then noticed the long cut up his friend's chest and the bloodied knife in his hand. " Tristan, Gods, I am sorry, are you alright?"

" I'll live." Tristan said stiffly. "But what about you? You've been out for a while."

A look of surprise came to Galahad's eyes. "I have?"

" Yeah, now just try and rest and don't hurt any one else: I've run out of bandages." Tristan added lightly. He settled himself in between the two, one eye on each patient.

00ooo000ooo000ooo

The next morning Tristan was posed with a worse problem; they now had one horse and two men unable to walk. He decided that firstly leading his horse and letting Galahad ride might be an idea. He woke them up and set out immediately. Lancelot still stumbled, but with Tristan's help he could walk all right. They made slow, painful progress though the woodland stopped often. After a week of little food and practically no shelter the three knights were more then willing to surrender themselves to the nearest human life form; it had rained almost the entire time so they were soaked. Through the driving rain Tristan could see the tree outside Hadrian's Wall; often it had been the beacon, guiding him back after an unsuccessful trip. He sighed with relief and continued leading the horse forward gently. Evidently a lookout had seen them coming: for as soon as they reached the gate Arthur, Gawain, Bors and a few healers came out to meet them. Tristan was almost sick with fatigue; he hadn't slept in a week, Lancelot was practically asleep on his shoulder and Galahad had fallen unconscious; and top matters Tristan's wound didn't remotely resemble something that was supposed to be healing. He tipped Lancelot onto Gawain, happy to remove the weight on his shoulder, "Arthur!" He called still holding the reins of Galahad's horse. Arthur came over him; he looked somewhat shocked after finding his men like this, but never the less pleased that they were still alive. Tristan nodded and limped in the direction of his quarters, barley making it there before he collapsed. 


	11. Recovery

**WOW guys it's been awhile. Sorry for the delays and I hope _someone _gives me a review. This is the second last chapter and it kinda turns humour. But I'm almost finished! Dances **

**R, R and enjoy.**

Tristan's vision was blurry when he opened his eyes again. He had expected this but it didn't make the discovery any more pleasant. Through the haze he became aware of someone sitting next to him. He narrowed his eyes and glared at whoever it was; Tristan did not take kindly to being watched. " I see you have awoken." said a very familiar voice Tristan knew it, yet it still took a time to place. "Lancelot and Galahad are fine," the voice said and it clicked _Arthur_. Tristan glared a bit more then turned his head hoping to fall back into sleep. "Well Tristan it seems you at least are back to normal." Arthur commented dryly. "When you fell capable of standing, meet me downstairs."

Tristan growled and threw a book at Arthur.

Tristan threw another book at the door just in case Arthur had any idea of trying to disturb his sleep again. He had braved a week trying to move two virtually unconscious knights and he was not going anywhere for anyone. There was another knock at the door. Tristan fed up threw his knife at it almost hitting Gawain as he came in. "Nice to see you too." he said accusingly removing the knife from the door frame and passing it back to Tristan.

"Why are you here?"

" Just doing my rounds to see that you are all alive."

"What of everyone else?"

" They are alive too thought Galahad is still in a pretty bad state. Do you want to come down for food or will you stay here?"

The mention of food reminded Tristan that he had not eaten for a while and he reluctantly dragged himself to his feet. "I'm coming I'm coming,"

Galahad groaned; he had no recollection of the past week. He slowly brought his hand down to his side running his fingers over the smooth leather on his knife sheath, which no one had removed for fear of jostling him. Then he remembered. Galahad made to roll over so could at least watch the door for signs of intelligent life. He carefully moved himself on one side then stopped midway as white-hot pains flew up his side

"Ah." He carefully settled himself again, watching the sky. The door opened quietly and Tristan entered.

" How're you feeling Galahad? He questioned. "Bloody terrible." Galahad said flatly; he had desire to move at all now and was quite happy to drift into unconsciousness again.

"Galahad ……."

But he heard no more and fell back again.

Arthur carefully moved his hand to pull Lancelot's blanket of his face; every time he had tried Lancelot had subconsciously swatted him away; this would not normally bother Arthur, but Lancelot still grasped is knife and was liable to slash his friend's hand open.

Lancelot suddenly awoke and seeing, or perhaps sensing, someone's hand over his face he made to lash to at them with whatever he was holding in his hand, he realised that this was his knife and stopped mid stroke.

" Lancelot." A soft voice rang in his ears.

" Would you please remove your blanket form you head, I would like to know that you are still breathing."

Registering the voice as Arthur's Lancelot reluctantly removed it out of his vision. He would have liked to have gone back to sleep but he had more pressing things on his mind.

" Good morning Lancelot," Arthur said lightly "I believe I told you to come downstairs."

" Huh?" Lancelot inquired.

" That was two days ago." Arthur finished

"What! I've been out for two days?"

" Yes my friend."

" What of the others?"

" Well Tristan is up and about, but that is to be expected. I would have liked for him to rest longer. But save tying him down, there is no way to get him to lie still."

Lancelot smiled "And Galahad?"

" Well he has slept for longer then you, which is probably best he will be in pain is he wakes."

Lancelot looked grave, then shivered again

" Well now that I know you are not going to choke on your blanket Lancelot I will leave you, and I strongly suggest that you change into the clothes that were provided for you."

" I have to get up I have my duties." Lancelot argued indignantly.

"Well since the three of you are in no condition to fight our force has been grounded for a time." Arthur answered. Glad he had a good reason to keep Lancelot from his "duties"

Lancelot was falling back asleep now and instinctively he pulled the blanket over this head. Arthur gently pulled it down again.

" You will suffocate yourself Lancelot," he warned before leaving the room.


	12. For ale and a cross

**Here we go. The end may I say it's been a great journey and thanks to everyone who was with me for it. I'm sad that I'm finished but relived as well. Here we go the very last second chances.**

Tristan limped resolutely across the field determined to make it from point A to B without help. Every time someone had seen him they had offered help. The only reason he had gotten out of bed was too prevent Arthur tying him to it, as he had done a while ago when Tristan had been injured like this; true that time he had been poisoned and was slightly delirious, but he didn't doubt that Arthur would try to it again. For this reason Tristan had kept himself moving in the open and away from any furniture that one could tie him too. He finally limped into the stables pleased with him having made it here without collapsing, he walked over to his mares stall and lent against the rail.

"Hello girl."

His mare sniffed him worriedly, he ran his fingers through her forelock straitening the matted hair, "Hey, stop that." he gently pushed her snuffing nose away from the cut across his chest; looking at it reminded him of Galahad. He should probably go and check on the young knight, he also judged that he would be fairly safe there. With a deep sigh he patted is horse farewell and made his slow way up the field again.

Galahad groaned and with that fell out of the sweet bliss of unconsciousness. He looked around, recognising his room; this established he sunk deeper into his bed. He did not feel like going anywhere for quite some time. "Galahad?"

There was a soft knock at the door. " Gowayandlemmesleep." Galahad replied unintelligibly. Taking this as a signal to enter the person on the other side of the door came in. "Good morning Galahad." He said.

Galahad's vision had suffered more then Tristan's and he was still somewhat half asleep so neither the voice no the person whom it belonged to connected it his mind. " Whatdoyouwant?" He said still intent on getting rid of the visitor. " Well now that I can see you are alive." Said visitor replied sarcastically. There was only one being in Hadrian's Wall, with the possible exception of Tristan, who could use that much sarcasm.

"Lo Gawain."

" Ah I see you recognise me, that's good."

"What are you doing here?" Galahad's speech was improving.

"I live here Galahad," said Gawain.

" No here in my room." Galahad said quite fed up with Gawain's pointless banter.

" Well I was checking to see if you were still alive but I think that has been established."

" Mmmmmyeah?" replied Galahad slipping back into a hazy state. "Go away Gawain." He said with his eyes closed.

"I will leave this here then." he said, there was a chink of pottery hitting wood and Galahad guessed that he had been sent with food. "Seriously Galahad, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said with a slight groan "What about Tristan and Lancelot?"

"They are fine too," said Gawain gently trying to leave the room without injury. " I will tell Arthur that you have survived the night."

"You do that," Galahad pulled his blanket back over his shoulders and with no heed to the food next to him fell back to sleep.

Gawain and Arthur met in the corridor.

" How's Lancelot?"

"How's Galahad?"

Arthur laughed slightly. " Fine, fine; he's determined to kill himself with his blanket, but other then that he is in no danger. Galahad?"

"Hmmmm; other then me losing it and killing him, I think he is also fairly safe. Anyway when he wakes again, I intend to be far, far away."

With that Gawain headed off in what was clearly the direction of the tavern and Arthur went in the opposite direction, the direction of the church.


End file.
